


Not a Perfect Soldier

by gluupor



Series: Avengers Assemble [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Captain America, Comic Book Science, Comic Book Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jewish Neil, Neil as Captain America, Origin Story, Period Typical Attitudes, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor
Summary: A prologue for my Avengers AU, because how exactly did runaway Neil Josten become Captain America, war hero and national icon?In which Neil is captured, makes some friends, undergoes experimentation, saves a lot of people, joins the army, spends some time in the South Pacific, and crashes a plane. More or less in that order.





	Not a Perfect Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Captain America: The First Avenger.
> 
> So I did, like, an hour of Wikipedia research for this, so you should take all historical facts with a grain of salt, especially since some of them are based on Marvel's movie facts. I'm also sure that this is littered with anachronisms, particularly word choice. If anything's really wrong, let me know.
> 
> Warnings: This story ends at the same place where the movie does, so Neil does sacrifice himself heroically by crashing a plane. There's also vague misogyny, racism, and homophobia, as well as references to rape and murder. There's comic book war violence, and implied torture. If I missed any tags, let me know.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr [@gluupor](http://gluupor.tumblr.com).

Abram shivers uncontrollably, the canvas cover of the truck not providing any protection from the cold for its many occupants. Without the numerous unwashed bodies that have been shoved like cattle into the transport, all shackled in place, it is cold enough that he would freeze to death. Instead they all share body heat and Abram’s shivers are only partly due to the subzero temperature. The rest are due to sheer terror because of what, or more accurately who, awaits him at the end of this journey.

He’s tired, exhausted, from months of hard living as he and his mother made a desperate bid for freedom. They’d never had the best of luck and what little they'd had had finally run out with his mother’s illness. She’d tried to hide it from him, suppressing her coughs and shivers and forcing him onward. He hadn’t realized how serious it was until he could feel the heat radiating from her, her fever run rampant. He’d tried to cool her off with snow, but she’d slipped into a delirium, seeing their enemies hiding in the trees around them. She’d ranted and forced promises out of him: to never stop running, to never give in to death. Near dawn, she’d settled and he’d hoped her fever had broken; instead, as the sky lightened he found her dead, glassy eyes staring at him sightlessly.

He’d choked down his grief and buried her in a snowdrift, not willing to risk a fire, and forced his creaky legs onward. His luck had truly run out, though, because he was captured not long after by Nazi soldiers. He hadn’t been able to produce appropriate paperwork and had been sent to a nearby prison where he and several others awaited transport to the larger camps. The brutality of what went on in those camps he’d heard in whispers; everything his mother had done had been to keep the two of them free. Even earlier, before the war, before _Kristallnacht_ , before they’d lived in Germany, she’d made sure that their heritage would never be guessed. He hadn’t kept kosher or lit the Shabbat candles or even said his true name out loud (in case anyone recognized its Hebrew origins) since they’d left England. His mother had taken him and left as soon as his grandfather had insisted that he have a _bar mitzvah_.

They’d lived in France, first, then Switzerland, then Germany, until the growing tensions had forced them to flee to the Netherlands. That country had kept neutrality in Europe's first war, so his mother believed that it wouldn’t be affected if war broke out again. War had indeed broken out, and Germany had invaded. After two years of Nazi occupation, the deteriorating conditions and widespread starvation caused his mother to make a desperate attempt to return to Switzerland. Somehow they’d made it out of the Netherlands into Germany and had been heading south when their luck had run out.

He had not realized how badly it turned on him until he was being loaded into the truck for transport.

“Headed for Dachau?” asked one of the local guards.

“No,” replied the head SS officer, resplendent in his uniform. “There’s a research base near Kreischberg, in Austria. The Butcher is asking for more bodies.”

Abram had stumbled then, not having heard the name since he and his mother had fled from his father’s house in Baltimore in 1929. His reason returned instantly. His father is a half-Jewish Polish-American citizen; it is practically impossible that he is the man working for the Nazis. Still, being given into the custody of a man called ‘The Butcher’ does not bode well for him.

He keeps telling himself that it is a different Butcher, that his father is not in Austria, throughout the entire journey. He almost believes it, until he’s being unloaded from the truck and stumbles directly into Jackson Planck, one of his father’s most loyal employees.

Planck’s eyes widen in recognition. “Junior?” he asks. Abram knows that it’s his resemblance to his father that gives him away: he was nine the last time he saw this man; there’s no way he can recognize the nine year old by looking at his twenty-three year old face.

He tries to scramble away, but he’s small and exhausted, suffering from years of hard living. Planck has a hand wrapped around his upper arm and is dragging him forward almost instantly. He gives some direction to the soldiers that are milling around in low quality German - they are all dressed in a non-standard Nazi uniform emblazoned with a many-tentacled skull - and steers Abram into the nearest building. Abram attempts to memorize the path they take, but panic is overtaking him. He uselessly struggles, causing Planck to painfully tighten his hold. He’s led into an office, where Patrick DiMaccio is sitting behind a desk. He looks up at the noisy entrance and does a double take.

“What do we have here?” he asks, his Jersey accent still thick.

“Found him in the newest shipment of subjects,” replies Planck.

DiMaccio smiles slowly. “Isn’t that fortunate?” he says, standing and walking forwards to peer closely at Abram. “Boss’ll be happy. Where’s his bitch of a mother?”

Planck shakes him, rattling his teeth. “She’s dead,” he grits out, grateful that she’s been spared this reunion.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” says DiMaccio. “But no matter. We’ll get the truth out of you eventually.” He turns and retakes his seat.

“What should I do with him?” asks Planck.

“Put him in with the inverts,” says DiMaccio dismissively. “Maybe they’ll soften him up for us.”

Planck laughs cruelly, before taking Abram back out into the hallway. They pass by a large room where chained prisoners are assembling weapons under heavy guard and Abram realizes that they’re in a weapons factory. Farther into the building, there are cages. Each one is filled with five to ten people and clearly labelled. Most of the labels have to do with heritage or country of origin, but there are several that highlight different traits, like the cage to which Planck directs Abram. He bangs on the cell bars with a short club that he is carrying, making the occupants back away from the entrance. Then he unlocks the door and unceremoniously shoves Abram inside.

“Here you go, boys, I brought you fresh meat,” he says while locking the cage door. “You can dirty him up a little, but anyone who takes away the honour of killing him away from the Butcher is going to suffer.” With that warning, he leaves.

“What’s your name, then, kid?” says one of the men gruffly in English, his accent American.

Abram thinks quickly. He won’t break a promise to his mother, so his Hebrew name is out; he could use the English name she gave him to please his father, but he’s not sure he could get it out without choking. He could use one of his past identities, but none of them suited him. He could make up something new, but he may forget it in his pain and exhaustion.

“Neil,” he finally says, neatly excising his father’s name from his birth name. “Joosten,” is the first surname that comes to mind, it having been the name he and his mother had shared in Amsterdam.

“Don’t look so panicked,” says the same man. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

“No offence, but it’s not you I’m frightened of,” replies Neil, repeating his new moniker to himself in order to remember it. _Neil, Neil, Neil, I’m Neil_.

Another of the occupants of the cell gives a bark of a laugh and Neil looks up to examine them for the first time. To his surprise, half of the occupants are women. They all have black hair, but they don’t resemble each other at all. One is brown skinned with light brown eyes that look almost yellow, one is olive skinned with dark eyes, and the last one is pale skinned with freckles and green eyes. There are also three men; a Japanese man who is the one who spoke to him, a brown man, and a black man. All six of them are examining him curiously.

“Take a seat,” says the Japanese man. “Might as well spend time off your feet while you can.”

Neil nods and sits. “What’s your name?”

“I’m James,” the man replies, “but you can call me Jim.”

“How’d you end up here?”

Jim grimaces. “We’re all POWs. I’m a member of the United States Army, 442nd Infantry Regiment. Charles here is a member of the Indian Army, Louis is with the Free French Army, and the three ladies were working with the French resistance, despite the fact that none of them are French.”

“Laila and I are actually with the British Special Operations Executive,” says the white woman in an Irish accent, indicating the brown woman who must be Laila. “We were on assignment in France to help the French resistance, of which Alejandra is a member. Oh, and I’m Kayleigh, by the way.”

It’s amazing how much these people want to talk about themselves. They’ve obviously been locked up for awhile and are happy to have someone new to talk with. Once they discover he speaks French, Louis and Alejandra start talking about themselves as well. Maybe it has to do with the fact that none of them are likely to survive? If only one of them does, then at least they’ll be remembered.

Jim tells him that he was born in Fresno to an American father and a Japanese-American mother. Once Pearl Harbor had been bombed, the American government began moving its citizens of Japanese descent into internment camps, including Jim’s mother and two younger sisters. In order to escape that fate, Jim had joined the army. Louis is Senegalese; conscripted into the Free French Army despite the fact that he had no love for the country which had colonized his own. Charles has a British father and an Indian mother and had volunteered into the Indian Army, wanting to help his father’s homeland. Alejandra had fled to Paris from Spain in the waning days of the Spanish Civil War, only to have her adopted country surrender to German occupation. She’d joined the resistance as soon as she was able. Laila, like Louis, is Muslim, her father from a noble Indian family. She’d grown up splitting time between London and Paris, using her Canadian mother’s surname. She joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force and was trained as a wireless operator before she was recruited by the Special Operations Executive and sent into occupied France. Kayleigh has a similar story. Fiercely anti-fascist, she had left Ireland to join the WAAF once her country declared neutrality. Her ability to speak French like a native, due to her French mother, had led to her recruitment by the SOE.

Neil is humbled by all these brave people; he has been taught to run at the first sign of conflict and has done nothing to combat any of the horrors that he has witnessed. He’s a little curious about the ‘Inverts’ label on the cage, but he feels it may be rude to bring it up. Luckily they do it for him.

“They give out small rewards if you report on the other prisoners,” Jim says. “Most of us don’t, of course, but there’s always someone willing to throw others under the bus.”

“And then that vile woman - her name is Lola, she’s the Butcher’s assistant - came around and tried to seduce us to prove if the rumours were true,” complains Charles. “Which is patently ridiculous. Even if I weren’t attracted to rougher trade, I wouldn’t go for a strung out white woman.” He sends a significant look towards Laila.

“I didn’t take her up on her offer!” says Laila, offended. “They caught me and Al kissing.” She wraps an arm around Alejandra and kisses her cheek.

“I did,” says Kayleigh unapologetically. “What?” she asks at the judgmental looks. “Look, I appreciate a big cock filling me up as much as the next girl-” she glances at Laila and Alejandra “-or in our present company, I guess it’s as much as the next guy, but when I want to get eaten out properly, I always find a woman, and she offered! Men just do not know their way around a pussy.”

“Stop saying things simply to shock the new guy,” complains Charles.

“Stop acting like a prudish Englishman,” counters Kayleigh.

“So what did you do to get us thrown in with those of us with ‘unnatural’ proclivities?” asks Jim.

“You heard him,” says Neil. “They were hoping you’d hurt me.”

“You just got here,” says Charles. “What did you do to anger them so?”

“I was born,” says Neil wryly.

He figures that he’s going to be killed soon, so he has nothing to lose by telling them the truth. In his last few hours of life he can speak his truth for the first time ever.

To their shock and disgust, he tells them who his father is. He tells them, briefly, of his childhood living in the Baltimore mansion of The Butcher. How his father, a doctor and researcher hoping to make people stronger through science, had gained his nickname through his inhumane experiments. How, when he was nine, his father had injected him with a substance that had made his bones feel like fire, but had had no other effect. How his mother, afraid of what else his father would do to him, stole as much money as she could and escaped with Neil into the night, eventually getting them passage on a ship to England. How the market had crashed a few weeks later, likely leaving his father in some financial difficulty. How, even though they’d never gotten any indication that he was after them, his mother had been paranoid, moving them frequently from place to place until the war had kept them in place. How, now that his father has captured him against all odds, he is unlikely to survive for long.

The others pay rapt attention as he speaks, Laila translating quietly for Louis and Alejandra. Kayleigh’s face twists in determination.

“We won’t let them take you,” she says urgently.

“You don’t have a choice,” Neil replies.

She clearly doesn’t like that he’s right. “We have to do something!” she insists.

Jim pats Neil’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “We’ll remember you,” he promises. “You won’t be forgotten.”

Neil nods, overtaken with emotion. He will not die nameless and forgotten, forsaken in a foreign land.

The next morning, it is Lola and Romero Malcolm who come for him. Siblings who have worked for Neil’s father for longer than Neil’s been alive, they frighten him nearly as much as his father does. Lola coos happily when she sees him.

“Oh, Junior, I thought Jackson had gone off the deep end when he told me that you were here,” she says. Then she pouts. “You’re not even bruised. Didn’t these perverts hurt you at all?”

“No,” says Jim stonily.

“Pity,” says Lola. “He cries so prettily. I can’t wait.”

His six cellmates make various sounds of anger, and pull him backwards, placing themselves between him and the bars.

“Oh, so you _do_ want him for a pet,” snarls Lola. “Too bad he’s not yours. Rome, you have the cattle prod?”

“No,” says Neil, pushing his way to the front. “Don’t hurt them, I’ll come with you.”

“A tiny little martyr, are you?” says Lola in amusement. “Where did you learn that, I wonder? Certainly not from Mary.”

Neil stumbles a little at hearing his mother’s nickname, but otherwise wait stoically for Lola to open the cell door. She ushers him forwards, taunting him under her breath.

“So how did you end up as Nazis?” Neil asks conversationally, trying to pretend that he’s unaffected by her.

She waves a hand dismissively. “Stupid American government,” she says. “Stopped funding your father because his experiments were too daring for them. Their loss.”

“I didn’t think that Nazis were big fans of people like my father.”

Lola slaps him across the face. “Nathan Wesninski is a brilliant scientist and a devout Christian. He’s the leader of Hydra, trusted by Hitler himself.”

“Hydra?” he manages. His face is stinging.

She flicks the skull-tentacle badge on her uniform. “Everything you see around you. Experimental science division.”

She’s being more informative than he’d expected. She must know that he’s never going to leave whatever room she’s taking him to.

His father is waiting for him. His steps falter.

“Junior,” his father says, his voice gravelly, the sound of it sending Neil careening back to his eight year old self who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “My biggest disappointment. DiMaccio tells me my biggest mistake is dead.”

“Yes, sir,” replies Neil so quietly he can barely been heard.

“Do you even know the damage she did?”

“No, sir.”

His father drifts closer to him. Neil manages not to take a step away from him. “She destroyed my research. Burnt all my notes and destroyed my samples. All my years of work, gone. And only one living subject.” He caresses the side of Neil’s face and Neil can’t suppress his shudder. “That’s right,” his father continues, “your blood, your _unworthy_ blood, holds to key to everything I’ve been working towards. It’s a two step process. First, a serum to prime. You remember?”

Neil thinks about being strapped to a table in his father’s basement and screaming, feeling as if his bones had been ignited. He nods.

“That’s what she destroyed. My second treatment, the one that enhances, was left intact. But it kills subjects without the priming. You’re my only hope at success.” He looks at Neil covetously. Then he slaps him, directly over where Lola hit him earlier. “And you escaped.” He turns to Lola and Romero. “Strap him down. Take as much blood as you can without killing him. We’re getting that priming agent out of him.” He starts to stride out of the room angrily, before turning back suddenly. “Oh, and Lola? Find out if he’s lying about his mother’s death.”

* * *

Time blurs together. He doesn’t know anything except for pain. Lola is eventually convinced about his mother’s death, laughing happily as she learns she was defeated by fever. He’s woozy; they keep draining him of blood. He can tell it isn’t working, though. His father is in a rampage, shouting angrily, stomping around, even shooting one of his underlings in the head when he shared some unwanted news. Neil gathers that for some reason it is impossible to isolate the priming agent from his blood. His father had apparently promised enhanced soldiers to Nazi command, but without the agent all he has is corpses.

“What if you inject Junior with the second serum?” suggests Lola as his father reaches desperation. “If you can show them one enhanced individual, it’ll buy you some time, right?”

“The priming agent was always unstable,” replies Nathan thoughtfully. “Maybe once combined with the second serum we’ll be able to isolate it. Plus, we still need proof-of-concept.”

Neil is too far gone to care. He’s beyond doing much of anything but wishing for death and repeating his name to himself. _Neil, Neil, Neil, I’m Neil_.

He’s still able to scream, though, and scream he does when this serum enters his blood stream. It’s not fire, it’s acid, eating him away from the inside out. He screams until his voice gives out, wishing for oblivion. Finally, the pain starts to fade away and Lola injects him with something that knocks him unconscious.

He cannot tell how long he was passed out, but it can’t have been long. Everything hurts. Even his eyelids, so he doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Did it work?” asks Lola, sounding dubious. “He looks the same. Shouldn’t he be… more impressive?”

“He’s still alive,” says Nathan.

“He might not be for long,” says Lola. “His heart rate is off the charts; he’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Maybe it’s a side effect?” offers DiMaccio’s deep voice. Neil hadn’t known he was in the room. He starts a little.

“I think he’s awake,” says Lola, her voice drifting closer to him.

“The sedative shouldn’t have worn off yet,” says Nathan.

“And yet,” replies Lola, unshackling Neil and dragging him to his feet. He stumbles a few times before his feet are able to hold his weight.

“Are you sure you should be letting him free?” asks DiMaccio.

“Please, he’s as stable as a baby deer,” says Lola.

Neil tries to push her off of him and is surprised when he does. He’s stronger than he should be after days of torture and years of starvation.

“What?” gasps Lola in surprise, but Neil realizes that he’s no longer being restrained.

He turns to run towards the door, the movement making him a little dizzy. He miscalculates the direction and runs full force into his father. His father’s head snaps back at the force of the impact, and he falls, slowly. Neil looks with wide astonished eyes as he lands on the floor, his head twisted at an odd angle, his eyes vacant.

“What did you do?” shrieks Lola.

Neil doesn’t know, but he tries to recreate it. He notices that time seems to move in slow motion as he sprints towards her: DiMaccio is moving like he’s trapped in gelatin as he reaches for his gun and Lola’s hands don’t even come close to blocking him. He bowls her over and then turns to DiMaccio, running over and plucking the gun from his hands before he can react. He puts two bullets into his head, and a couple into both Lola and his father to ensure that they’re dead.

He sways on his feet, trying to understand what just happened. Why did everything start going slowly? Did that serum succeed at enhancing him? Can he slow down time somehow? How would something like that be possible? No, it’s got to be something within himself that’s changed. Then it hits him. No one was going slowly, he was going _fast_. He laughs a little hysterically. His father had been so angry that he’d run away. And now he has given Neil the means to run away from anything.

His hands are shaking and it hasn’t registered that his father is dead. Not only that but shots were fired; guards are probably on their way. And the building is full of both weapons and prisoners. He heads back over to Lola, divesting her of her weapons and the ring of keys that she used to free him from his cell. A rudimentary plan is forming in his brain. He’s going to _run_.

He does. He runs past slow moving Hydra soldiers, only stopping long enough to put bullets into them and to steal their weapons. He makes his way to his old cell, taking out everyone in his way. His hands are shaking as he tries to locate the correct key.

“Neil?” it’s Jim’s calm voice that reaches him. “Neil, what the fuck happened to you?”

He knows he must look delirious, but he just shakes his head. “He’s dead,” he says with delighted laughter. “He’s dead, he’s dead.”

“Neil,” and this time it’s Kayleigh’s no-nonsense tone. “Calm down. What’s going on?”

“We’re getting out of here,” says Neil, finally coming up with the right key. “Let’s blow this place up and go home.”

The rest of the prisoners seem amenable to this plan. Neil hands off the keys to someone with steadier hands to unlock the other cages and distributes the weapons. “I can get more,” he says. “Be right back.”

He zips through the facility, stealing weapons and incapacitating guards.

Laila is looking at him with wide eyes when he returns. “You move like a blur,” she says. “What did they do to you?”

“Strapped me to a table and injected things into me,” says Neil. “Made me fast.”

“God,” mutters Kayleigh. “What happened to them?”

“Killed them with my new power,” says Neil, giggling a little. “They really did not think that through.”

He knows that he’s in shock and hysterical, but as Kayleigh starts giving commands to the gathered prisoners and he focuses on her voice and her steadiness.

“Explosives?” Louis asks in French, adding appropriate hand gestures.

“I know where they are,” says Charles.

“Alright,” says Kayleigh, “you two take an armed team and get the explosives, and rig this place to blow. Laila, Alejandra you two are in charge of leading a team to gather supplies; we don’t know how long it will take us to get back to the Allies. Jim, you and I will try to find transport. Neil, you take the offensive. Take out our opposition, would you?”

The plan, somehow, goes smoothly, and within two hours there are over four hundred former prisoners gathered about a kilometre away from the former munitions factory, watching the black smoke belching from the remains of the building drift into the air. They have a couple tanks and a few trucks, but not nearly enough vehicles for all of them.

“Alright,” says Kayleigh, again taking charge. Some of the men who are clearly army members seem affronted by this, but they seem to be following Neil’s example. “Does anyone know where exactly we are?”

“Kreischberg,” answers Neil.

“And does anyone know where we might find the Allied army?”

“Um…” a nervous young, black man raises his hand. “Private Joseph Winfield, ma’am, of the 92nd Infantry Division. We were in battle at Azzano, Italy about two weeks ago when we were captured. The US Army should still have camps near there.”

“We’ll head south into Italy,” decides Kayleigh. “We’ll have to move quickly; we don’t want to get caught in Nazi-occupied territory.” She looks at Neil.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re in charge,” she hisses. “They’re following you, not me. Give the order!”

“I’m a civilian,” he answers back.

“It doesn’t matter what you are, it matters what they think you are,” she says back. “And right now you’re the man who saved them.”

“She’s right,” whispers Jim, who along with the others from the cell have joined their huddle. “You’re white and a man and you apparently have superpowers. You’re the only one of us they’ll all listen to. We can help you, but you have to lead.”

“Get us to safety, Neil,” says Laila.

“Fine,” says Neil quietly, before raising both his head and his voice. “Move out!”

* * *

Neil quickly becomes completely reliant on his six companions. They all have useful experience, as opposed to his own, which is mainly dropping everything and running away. Despite this, he somehow manages not to lose all the escaped prisoners’ respect. He guesses that freeing them has given him a lot of goodwill. Also, his companions keep giving him the credit for their competence, so he doesn’t appear as lost and confused as he truly is.

On the second day, a rumour reaches him that he’s actually Captain America in disguise, an American soldier. Jim snorts when he hears it.

“He’s a propaganda tool,” he explains. “An invincible supersoldier that punches Hitler in the face.”

“They think I’m American?” asks Neil.

“You were born in Baltimore,” Jim points out.

“Yes, but my accent is British.”

“Can you speak with an American accent?” asks Jim curiously.

“Yes,” says Neil, switching back to the accent of his youth. “I can.”

“God, that sounds weird,” says Jim. “But it doesn’t hurt that they’re not questioning your powers. Maybe you being Captain America in their minds is a good thing.”

Neil shrugs, but continues using his American accent, much to Kayleigh’s disgust. It’s not like she likes the English, but at least they’re _civilized_ , she tells him, sounding scandalized.

On the fifth day, when they’re all ready to drop, one of their forward scouts rushes back to tell them that an American Army base is nearby. Charles suggests that they put the American POWs at the front of their procession, reducing the chance that the sentries will just start shooting.

Instead, the sentries recognize some of their fellow soldiers and word spreads quickly through the camp that those who were lost at Azzano have wandered back to camp. The mood is shocked but jubilant at the sight of so many soldiers thought dead.

“Three cheers for Captain America!” shouts Jim, giving Neil a shit eating grin as the POWs break into cheers. Neil and his six companions are quickly identified as the ringleaders and brought to the colonel’s tent to debrief. Neil gets a shock when he enters, as his uncle is sitting with the colonel.

“Bloody hell,” says his uncle. “Nathaniel?”

“Uncle Saul?” Neil sputters.

“Stuart,” says his uncle, somewhat shiftily. “Stuart Hatford.” Neil assumes that his name is no longer Saul Hertzfeld for the same reason that he never says Abram out loud so he just nods.

“I’m called Neil now,” he offers.

“Mariam?” Stuart asks hopefully. Neil just shakes his head.

“Alright, that’s enough heartfelt family reunion,” says the colonel gruffly. “Does anyone want to tell me what happened?”

Jim does most of the talking, glossing over things that the colonel doesn’t need to know, but can’t gloss over Neil’s new powers. Neil doesn’t like the almost hungry look the colonel sends him.

“He needs to go to London to be examined by SSR staff,” says Stuart quietly.

“SSR?” asks Kayleigh sharply.

“Strategic Scientific Reserve,” says Stuart. “My division. It’s the Allies’ answer to Hydra.”

“You want me to go be poked and prodded in a lab?” asks Neil. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m not sure why you think you have a choice,” says the colonel.

“You don’t have any authority over me,” Neil points out. “I’m a civilian. Just because I broke out of Nazi custody and brought a whole bunch of your soldiers with me doesn’t mean I owe you anything. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.”

The colonel’s eyes harden. “What exactly are you implying, boy?”

“That you owe me. I didn't think I was being subtle.”

Stuart buries his face in his hands. “Nathaniel - Neil, look. I just want to bring you somewhere safe.”

“What about what I want?” asks Neil, before realizing that he has no idea what he wants. He knows his mother would want him to run and hide, but he's so tired. Going somewhere safe and sleeping for several months actually sounds like a good plan. Then he looks around the room at his companions. These people who have been helping him out since they met him, who know him better than anyone ever has, even though they've spent such a short amount of time together. He thinks about Jim and Louis and Alejandra, all forced into this war by forces beyond their control. Of Kayleigh and Laila and Charles who could have stayed home where it was safe, but chose to oppose the fascist regime. He thinks about those throughout Europe who share his religion and how they are suffering because they didn't or couldn't hide or deny it, unlike him and his uncle. He thinks about the people in occupied countries, starving and beaten down but some of them still showing resistance.

“You can't lock me in a lab like a rat,” he says slowly. “However I got these powers, they're mine now and I want to use them in the war effort.”

“Us, too,” says Kayleigh quickly. “We go where Neil goes. We're his support team.”

The colonel gives her an unimpressed look. “Miss, we can provide an actual _qualified_ team for him.”

“Doesn't matter,” says Neil. “This is my team.”

“You don't have any authority-” the colonel starts to say.

Neil cuts him off, “Sure I do,” he says cockily. “Haven't you heard? I'm Captain America.”

* * *

Stuart ends up claiming the seven of them for the SSR to stop the colonel’s head from exploding. They, along with several of the other POWs are then transferred to London because they actually do need R&R after their captivity. Meanwhile the SSR will decide where to deploy them so that they'll have the most impact.

Stuart informs Neil that he's been grudgingly granted the rank of captain in the US Army. He also says that the brass don't like his last name because it sounds too foreign. He suggests that they remove one of the o's and make it a hard j. Josten sounds enough like Johnson that they're appeased.

Newly minted as Neil Josten, with official paperwork and everything, he visits SSR headquarters. He meets Anthony Reynolds, an American billionaire and inventor, who is the lead weapons developer for the SSR. He's interested in Neil's speed, coming up with far-fetched ideas of possible weapons he could use and what kinds of fabrics would be best to include in his uniform.

Neil allows the lab techs to take samples of his blood and attempts to run on their treadmill (he breaks it) but that's all the testing he consents to.

He's then invited to a strategy meeting. He notices instantly that everyone here is an older white man. His team has not been invited.

“Where's my team?” he asks.

“Mr. Johnston,” says an American, “are you sure you wouldn't rather reconsider? Your team is very…” he trails off.

“I'm sure,” he says cheerfully. “Someone should go get them.”

“We really do think-” starts a British man.

“I don't care,” says Neil. “I would rather trust my team than have people who you consider respectable.” There's a brief attempt at a stare down. “I think you'll find that I'm the irreplaceable one in this room,” he points out. “Which means that I get what I want.”

“Typical American arrogance,” the man mutters, but he relents, and someone is sent to fetch Neil's team.

“Now can we start?” asks Stuart peevishly when everyone is present.

“We could have started earlier if you'd invited who you were supposed to,” says Neil.

Stuart ignores him. “Due to the actions of Captain Josten and his team, Hydra’s influence has been practically eradicated. There are still a few research stations, but they are all closer to the eastern front. Our Soviet allies have taken responsibility for destroying them.” He pauses and glances at Neil. "It's been decided that your particular talents would be best suited to stealth infiltration in order to dismantle small to medium sized research bases like Hydra’s.”

“You just said that Hydra is basically gone,” says Kayleigh.

“Yes,” agrees Stuart. “But the Ravens are growing in power.”

“The Ravens?” asks Charles.

“Japan's version of Hydra.”

“You want us to go to the Pacific,” says Jim in realization.

“Pack your bags,” says Stuart. “I hear it's humid.”

* * *

They’re put on a boat to New York. From there, they will take a series of trains across the country, then board another boat to Hawaii where SSR’s Pacific headquarters is located. Neil finds that he does not like boats. He only has vague memories of his voyage to London when he and his mother first ran from his father, but it currently makes him antsy. There’s the constant threat of German U-boats and he’s trapped: there’s nowhere for him to run.

On the plus side, he has friends for the first time in his life. He’s not completely sure why they’ve chosen to follow him, but he’s grateful that they have.

“Why are you still here with me?” he asks. “Why didn’t you go home or back to what you were doing?”

“You need us,” Alejandra shrugs.

“Probably, but that doesn’t mean you had to come.”

“We owe you,” says Louis. “You got us out of that hellhole.”

“And it’s a worthy cause, stopping the Ravens,” says Laila. “Without us the SSR doesn’t have a team to oppose them.”

Neil nods. He knows his speed gives them an edge. Without it, they never would have escaped the facility in Kreischberg. If everything goes to plan in their upcoming raids, then he will incapacitate all the guards, keeping his team out of direct combat.

It’s strange being back in America. His memories from his youth are all of the excess of the ‘20s. There’s evidence of war-time rationing here, but it’s less noticeable than in bombed out London or occupied Amsterdam. It’s the first time in years that he can remember that there’s no chance of a sudden attack. His companions expressions mirror his thoughts.

In Chicago, they meet the actor that plays Captain America for propaganda purposes. He’s a huge man, over a foot taller than Neil and three times as broad at the shoulders, blond and earnest. He’s so happy and grateful to meet them that he reminds Neil of a Golden Retriever. He’s very excited to meet ‘actual war heroes’, a description that makes Neil itch.

“I’ve got flat feet,” Captain America explains - Neil thinks his real name is Steve? - lifting one foot and patting his chest, “and asthma, so I was ineligible to join the army. But I couldn’t just sit at home; I had to do my part. So I joined the USO to sell war bonds.” He smiles proudly.

“Good for you,” says Jim, sounding genuine.

Steve nods. “We’ve also been shooting a few Captain America movies. We’re going to start a new one soon, based on your real-life liberation of the weapons factory!”

“Oh?” asks Charles. “How are you going to explain that Captain America was captured?”

“Oh, in the movie he isn’t,” says Steve. “But he hears about the POWs that no one is planning on rescuing, steals a plane and parachutes into the facility, before wreaking havoc, punching all the guards and freeing the prisoners!”

“Yup,” says Neil faintly. “That’s exactly how it happened.”

Jim gets his hands on a couple recent Captain America comics before they board the transport to Hawaii.

“He has a team now!” he tells the rest of them, laughing happily. “The Howling Commandos.”

“Is that us?” asks Laila.

“Possibly,” says Jim, still chortling. “Except they’ve made us more palatable to the general American public. The team is made up of four stalwart white men: James, Louie, Alex, and Lyle, Cap’s kid sidekick, Charles - who everyone calls Chucky - and his buxom British girlfriend, Kayleigh Day.”

There’s silence as everyone takes this in.

“What?” shrieks Kayleigh. “British?!”

“Why am I a child?” whines Charles. “Why is there a child sidekick in a war, anyway?”

“He’s pretty incompetent, too,” says Jim. “He keeps getting captured. Of course, so does Kayleigh. Cap has to rescue them all the time.”

“I can’t believe that my legacy is going to be as an idiot child,” mutters Charles. “It’s completely lacking in dignity.”

“Well,” says Neil dryly, holding up the offending comic. “Other than that, it seems pretty realistic. These pictures are practically portraits.”

“You forgot to give us your daily speech about patriotism,” says Jim.

“Fuck America,” says Neil.

“That’s the spirit,” says Laila.

* * *

The commander of the SSR base at Pearl Harbor does not seem impressed to see them.

“Captain Neil Josten, reporting for duty,” Neil tells him. “With me are James Rhemann, Kayleigh Day, Charles Whittier, Laila Dermott, Louis Andritch, and Alejandra Alvarez.”

The commander watches him levelly, and then spits on the ground. “Christ,” he mutters, “they sent me children and women and foreigners.”

“Well fuck you too,” says Kayleigh.

Laila elbows her. “Be diplomatic,” she advises.

Neil glares at the man. “Do I need to have you reassigned?” he asks.

“Kid, you couldn’t if you tried.”

Neil moves unexpectedly. He divests the man of his sidearm and cigarettes from his back pocket. When he comes to a halt in his original position he is smoking and unloading the man’s gun. The commander’s eyes widen.

“Pretty sure only one of us is unique,” says Neil. “And I want respect for myself and for my team.”

The man seems to realize that he’s beaten and takes it with bad grace. “Fine, then, _Captain America_ ,” he says derisively. “You’ll refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘Captain Browning’. If you’d come with me?”

They’re led to a briefing room. There’s a large table with a very large map of the South Pacific islands spread across it.

“Our intel indicates that there is a Raven base near Rabaul,” he points. “We believe that there are several more bases deeper in Japanese territory, but we don’t know their locations. However, if we capture the one in Rabaul there should be documents there that can lead us there.”

“You think we can get to that base?” asks Kayleigh.

“We can get you to the island, but you’ll have to make your own way there,” says Browning. “You’ll be deep in enemy territory without any backup. A large force would be noticed, but you might be able to slip their surveillance.” He points to another area of the map. “Right now there is an offensive to capture the Solomon Islands. Once you disable the base and get the intel, you’re to signal for pickup and make it to this rendezvous point. If you’re captured, you’re on your own.”

“That, we've already experienced,” says Laila darkly.

* * *

The seven of them work together to plan their offensive. Before they even reach the base, they’re going to have to traverse enemy territory through a jungle. Neil’s nervous, wondering how exactly he ended up here, and thinking about how angry his mother would be if she knew what he was doing. At least he has a lot of experience travelling through areas without being detected.

Somehow, they’re successful. When they reach the base, Neil’s able to dismantle the alarms before they can sound and is able to stop the Ravens from destroying any useful information. As predicted, he’s able to find locations of other Raven facilities. They gather everything that could be helpful and then blow the base, retreating to the rendezvous location as Laila calls in their extraction team.

Their success has surprised Browning, and he thaws towards them.

After that, their mission is clear: take out the six remaining Raven bases. They work slightly ahead of the Allied offensive forays into Japanese territory. The next base is on Burma, there’s three sprinkled throughout the Philippines, and one in Borneo. By early 1945 there’s only one base remaining and the seven of them are exhausted. There’s been many close calls for all of them, and many atrocities witnessed. When they’re camped in enemy territory the two people on watch are also responsible for waking anyone in the throes of a nightmare lest they make too much noise. They all agree it has been worth it, though. No one else could have destroyed all those bases and the horrors that were happening in the name of scientific advancement had had to be stopped.

The last base is on Okinawa, built into the side of a mountain, and their attempt to infiltrate and disable the base is going to coincide with the Allies’ assault on the island. Past conflicts predict that it’s going to be a bloody battle. The night before they’re deployed, Neil finds himself gravitating to Kayleigh. They’ve become close in the past years; he’s become close will all of his teammates, but he’s closest with Kayleigh. She’s probably the strongest person he’s ever met: standing unbending and unconquerable in the face of all they have witnessed.

“Only one more,” she says as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

“And then what?” he asks.

“The war can’t last forever,” she says.

“And then what?” he repeats. He can barely remember a time when he wasn’t at war.

“And then we ensure that nothing like this can happen again.”

“I’m tired,” he protests.

“We can rest a little, first,” she allows.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” he says with a smile, opening his eyes.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admits. “But there’s so much to do.”

“The world better watch out for you,” he says sleepily. “Before anyone realizes it, you’ll have whipped everyone into shape.”

“Not everyone is as accommodating as you are, darling,” says Kayleigh. “Most people dismiss me because I’m a woman.”

“You’ll make them listen,” he replies. “I believe in you.”

“I know you do,” she says softly. “Now go to sleep; this is your last chance to sleep in a real bed for awhile.”

“It’s a cot with a rock-hard mattress,” he protests.

“Still better than the ground,” she counters with a smile.

* * *

The assault on the Okinawa base is going fine until somehow an alarm is tripped and the guards are alerted to their presence.

“Neil,” Jim’s worried voice comes over the radio. “I’m in the hanger and they’re prepping a plane for launch. I don’t know what’s on it, but you have to stop it.”

“Copy,” Neil replies and sprint to the hanger. The plane is already taxiing down the runway, heading to take off out of the side of the mountain. He’s faster than it is, but just barely. He slowly gains on it, reaching it just as the runway ends. He jumps, pulling himself up onto the landing equipment and climbs up into the belly of the plane.

It is filled with bombs. He’s learned quite a bit about demolitions from Louis during their time together and he knows that the amount of firepower here could level a city. He’s very familiar with Japanese kamikaze pilots and he has a bad feeling about where this plane may be headed. He cautiously makes his way up to the cockpit, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone other than the pilot on board. As he steps into the cockpit, he jerks in place, frozen from the electric shock that is running up his leg from the electrified floor panel.

The pilot’s chair spins around. “Captain America,” says the pilot in broken English. “I was wondering if you would show up,” he says in Japanese.

“I’m like a bad penny,” replies Neil in the same language, through his gritted teeth. “I always turn up.” He steels himself and uses all his power to push off of the electric panel, panting as he falls against the far wall. The pilot is shocked that the trap hadn’t held him, and pulls a gun. Neil manages to dodge the shot and moves away, the pilot shooting randomly through the cockpit, trying to hit him but only succeeding at shattering the front window and hitting the controls, sending the plane diving towards the Pacific. Neil turns sharply towards him, plucking the gun from his slow-moving fingers and finishing him off. Then he heads to the controls, levelling the plane. He looks at all the displays. The plane is currently headed north, towards the Bering Strait, but its final destination seems to be New York.

He finds the radio, tuning it to the frequency that Laila uses.

“Captain to Trojan, over,” he says.

“Neil,” Laila’s voice crackles through the radio. “Where are you? There’s something weird about that plane, we can’t track it on radar.”

“I’m approaching Alaska,” he says.

“What?” cries Laila. “How fast are you moving?”

“Very,” he replies. “I’m going to have to put the plane in the water.”

“What are you talking about?” comes Kayleigh’s voice, sharply.

“Controls are broken,” he says. “I can’t turn, I can only go up or down.”

“So land it!”

“I don’t know how to land a plane, Kayleigh,” he says in frustration. “And this one is full of bombs and headed to New York. I gotta crash it.”

“That is unacceptable,” snaps Kayleigh. “Come up with a better solution.”

“Kayleigh,” he sighs. “I’m moving fast. I’m in the middle of nowhere right now. It’s the only way that no one going to get hurt.”

“Except for you,” she says quietly. “I always knew that you were a martyr.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“Okay,” says Neil, gathering his courage and convincing himself that this is necessary. “Okay, okay, okay, here I go.” He pauses. “Kayleigh? You still there?”

“Yes, Neil,” she says, sounding full of static.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” she replies.

“Promise you'll remember me?”

“Always,” she says, openly crying now. "We'll all remember you."

Neil swallows heavily and pushes forwards on the yoke and the plane nosedives towards the ocean ice. The sun is glinting off the ice in the distance but he focuses his attention down. _Sorry, Mom_ , he thinks, then, _Please don’t let this hurt_.

He’s unconscious as soon as the plane makes contact with the ice. He’s unconscious through the seawater rushing into the cockpit, he’s unconscious as his body slowly freezes, he’s unconscious when he stops breathing.

He’s unconscious until he isn’t: blinking awake in a fake recovery room in New York, seventy-three years in the future.

 

 

 

CAPTAIN AMERICA will return in PART 2 of AVENGERS ASSEMBLE: IT ALWAYS ENDS IN A FIGHT

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Most of Neil's companions backstories are inspired by actual facts: [the Indian Army was the largest volunteer army in history and number 2.5 million in 1945](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Army_during_World_War_II), [the Free French Army was mainly composed of conscripts from French colonies](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_France#Composition), [the American 442nd Infantry Regiment was almost entirely composed of second generation Americans of Japanese descent who had originally been classified as "enemy aliens" after the attack on Pearl Harbour](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/442nd_Infantry_Regiment_\(United_States\)). Laila's backstory is based on an actual person: [Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noor_Inayat_Khan).
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought!


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